Madness
by Salazar Marvolo
Summary: They say madness and brilliance go hand in hand. Meeting Mayuri Kurotsuchi cemented this believe for Szayelzaporro Granz. Being held in his laboratory, nothing more than a rat...Who was he to call out for perfection? Warnings inside. [Mayuri x Szayelzaporro] Part of the 'Espada- Aspects of Death' series.


**A/N: This is very very dark. I don't know what happened...it has to be the characters...Kinda inspired by all Mayuri x Szayelzaporro fanfics out there. Anyway I'd feel honored if your left a Review on your way out.**

 **Warnings for Non-con/ Rape, Gore, Blood, Vivisection and Torture. Don't like don't read! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!**

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 **Madness (Mayuri x Szayelzaporro)**

A clown faced mask swam into his peripheral vision now and then. Otherwise nothing but the cold, cold darkness surrounded him.

He almost appreciated them, these few moments when he was allowed the simple pleasure of seeing. Eventhough the view had much left to wish for. Such a dreadful face, reminding of war paint and tribal primitivity.

Not the face of a man that should be able to defeat him.

Imperfect.

He had strived for perfection, nothing but perfection. He wanted to create and mold, his powers allowing him to play god with those precious few that had fallen into his traps. But then the clown had come along.

Szayelzaporro had thought himself brilliant…how wrong he had been. Standing in the face of true brilliance there was no way that he, intelligent as he was, would not know what was to come.

Yet he could not stop.

How fascinating. His emotions had almost been human.

Brilliance and madness. They say those two come hand in hand. He wondered…did brilliance cause madness? If so, did it mean that those brilliant enough understood the world for what it was and couldn't help but be driven to the brink of insanity at its mere existence. Or was it that madness caused brilliance? Already treading on the edge of the world, seeing over its end and beyond right into 'truth', right into the core of the world and causing brilliance? Such interesting thoughts and mind games. He would have loved to share them with someone if his tongue had allowed him so.

He drifted in and out. Unsure of the time that had passed, was it seconds or hours or decades? The poison was still affecting him, not to the same amount mind you, but still...everything seemed slower. The vast speed of his mind unable to catch onto the most simplistic things. Blackness and Brightness. Night and day. There was no telling.

It was why he was indefinitely surprised when he opened his eyes and no blackness surrounded him. He even winced at the blinding light shining into his face. His mind still sluggish and struggling to catch on as he realized that he could not feel, not move his arms or legs or any muscle.

"Ohh, you woke up? Looks like the dosage might have been too low. Nemu! You useless girl didn't I tell you to administer 100 ml?!" This voice, so familiar and hated. Grating and mad.

"I apologize, Mayuri-sama." The answer was soft, emotionless. Reminding him of a hollow.

"Get lost!" Was the vicious remark towards the soft voice before near silent footsteps left the room.

"Now…What to do, what to do? You see, I wasn't expecting my little rat to wake up while I am busy doing this. Wouldn't want to break your tiny mind completely now, do we?" The face swam into his view once again, a glint in his eyes just barely for him to witness before the clown moved away again.

"Ahh Espada! You see I've been having so much fun with you around. Truly fascinating this Resurrection of yours. I've been trying to utilize it for quite some time now…" The voice, this voice.

War paint.

Grating.

Perfection.

Brilliance.

"…Y…" He fought, the use of his tongue similar to stemming the weight of a house.

"Hnnn? What's that? It speaks! Nemu! Ahh, she left, useless girl. Haven't I told her to make sure it doesn't bore me with its inane chatter?" More movement to his right, the rustling of cloth. Hearing was getting easier. If only speaking became as possible.

"…Y-youuu…" He finally forced out. Contempt obvious in his voice, even when it was nothing more than a hoarse whisper, soft and airy and barely understandable.

"Yes, me." Came the answer, voice showing the clowns boredom. "At least use that wakefulness of yours for something useful! Scream, or beg, that way you'd at least serve the purpose of entertainment." He snapped at him.

Swallowing was hard. Breathing was easy. Moving was impossible.

He tried to move his head to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse at what was being done to him.

"…Whaat…what…are….y-you….doing…?" He whispered. The clown's attention, much to his surprise, was back on him. His face swimming directly into his vision.

"Hmm, as a fellow scientist I guess it is my duty to inform you, isn't it?" He asked, yellowed teeth stretching into a wild smile, madness in the depths of his sickly green eyes. "You see right now, dear Espada, I'm searching for a way to separate this lovely Resurrection of yours from your body. Quite the view it makes too…the wonders of a Hollows regeneration I can only say! Any other being would have already died on me! Too bad you can't see it yourself, having your organs exposed like this is quite the interesting sight!" His excitement was growing, the grin stretching impossibly far.

"…H-how…fascinating…" Szayelzaporro gave back. Because it was. The attempt to remove an entire Resurrection from a Vasto Lord, it sure hadn't been done before. He distantly wondered if the swelling in his chest was something similar to what humans called 'panic'…or maybe 'fear'? How interesting. But expected, being placed into a deadly situation would stimulate such emotions from every creature, as every creature would fight in hopes of surviving.

Surviving was not an option here. He wished the swelling would subside with his logical conclusion. It didn't.

"It truly is, isn't it?" The Shinigami answered, voice trailing off towards the end.

"…You strived for perfection, didn't you, Espada?" He continued, his question startling in its simplicity.

"…yess…" He answered. His vocal cords were getting used to the strain.

"Why?" The face swam into his view once again as the clown stared at him intently.

"…Is..Isn't it…what every…scientist…should…hoopee…foorr..?" He forced out.

"Hope?" The Captain sounded amused now, looking down at the Espada with something akin to incredulity.

"I was unaware…that your kind could feel anything aside from hunger, maybe even a distinct wish to survive…but 'hope', how amusing!" The laughter that left his throat, leaning towards a cackle send chills down Szayelzaporros spine.

Surviving was not an option.

Slowly the clown reached out. The Espadas heart hammered in his chest, fluttering with all its might to keep him alive, keep the adrenaline running. Fight or Flight. No matter how far one shall evolve those instincts would never subside. He startled when all the clown did was reach for his hair, rubbing disturbingly pink bangs between his fingertips.

"Have you lost 'hope', Espada?" He asked, his experimentation forgotten for the moment as the continued conversation with his lab rat had caught his interest momentarily.

"…there…was…no…hope…from…the…b-beginning…" He answered back. Meeting his gaze unflinchingly. A smile twitched at the clown's face, splitting apart his mask of paint and broadcasting yellow teeth. A chuckle.

"I guess that is true…What else is it that you can 'feel', Espada? Do indulge me." He motioned for his prisoner to carry on, listening to the airy answer in rapture attention.

"…Hollows…are incapable…of…feeling…we only…have…'echoes'…o-oof what…it meant….to…be…human…" He breathed back. There was no reason to lie, to withhold information, especially information as trivial as this. They were scientists, knowledge was held above all else and if talking about these inane things kept the clown from further vivisecting him, who was he to complain?

"How…peculiar." Mayuri mumbled, a long pale finger reaching out to touch Szayelzaporros cheek, a mockery of a gentle caress, taken the circumstances.

"…what…are…y-you…doing…" Sayelzaporro bit back. Detesting the clowns touch on his body, eventhough he only felt it to a very small percentage, given the drugs that were currently running through his system.

"Ahh! I was about to continue this interesting little endeavor! See what you did, distracting me! Let's continue, shall we?" The sick smile was back. Madness reflecting in his eyes.

"Hnnn…This won't do…As a fellow scientist you'd appreciate being able to see what it is that I'm doing, wouldn't you?" Sadistic. That was the only word Szayelzaporro could think of which was befitting of the face the clown was making. Sadistic glee.

He closed his eyes. Willing back the darkness, craving the darkness. It wouldn't come.

A screeching sound, steps, something mechanical.

"Open your eyes! I don't want to have gone through all the trouble without you even looking!" Annoyance bubbled in the Shinigamis voice. Szayelzaporro steeled himself as he forced his eyes open. The task of doing so seeming as impossible as moving.

Lungs, liver, stomach, kidney, large intestine, small intestine.

The clown had made a good job of pinning back his skin. His internal organs laid free for easy access. Large metal clips were holding back the skin on his sides from falling shut. A diagonal cut down his body, precisely executed.

How fascinating.

He felt sick.

His blood was running cold at the view in front of him. His arms and legs had been pinned down on the metal table, his head fixated at his forehead, explaining his inability to move. He could make out his own fluttering heart, the air in his lungs shuttering as he was presented with the cruel picture. The clown had outdone himself. Erecting a mirror on the ceiling in less than a few minutes…knowing the Shinigami it had probably already been there, hidden away. Blood. Blood everywhere. Coating the instruments, his skin, running down his body, staining his face. His naked, exposed body staring back at him tauntingly. Flaunting his weakness right into his face. His imperfection.

"What do you say? Hnn, Espada? You make quite the…view…I have to say."

 _Sick bastard._

He wanted to yell back into his face, fight against the restrains trapping his arms. Futile and illogical. He was still cut open from collarbone to navel, an unknown substance preventing him from feeling the pain. He swallowed back any remark he held, swallowed the screams threatening to fall out of his mouth. His panic already disgustingly on display through his wildly beating heart.

"…fascinating…" He simply whispered voice empty.

Surviving was not an option.

"Ohh? No screams? No begs? You truly are something else, Espada, you know? Not even the thoughest of men have withstood this before…they all started screaming, begging for release…quite boring really. Of course, there were also those that fell unconscious, the most disappointing of them all…But not you, Espada. Why not you? Why do you not feel the need to at least beg me a little?" The face was back, looming over him.

"…why…should…I?" He answered, defiance in his eyes.

The smile was back, stretching. Madness.

"Why, indeed? For my entertainment…maybe?" The clown answered.

Szayelzaporro scoffed.

"…entertaining…you…isn't…my…d-duty…" He mumbled back, annoyance, anger, despair at his own helplessness, rising in the form of sarcasm and bitterness.

The clown chuckled.

"Maybe it is maybe it isn't…You are fascinating, Espada. Truly, you are the first one to hold my interest this long." There was something in his voice, the quietness with which the words had been whispered, that made Sayelzapporo wish for a quick end. A blade to the throat…a heart attack preferably. He tried to pinpoint it, the huskiness with which the clown had spoken…surely it couldn't be…he surely couldn't be… _aroused?_

"So interesting…" A sickly smile twisted over his features. He vanished out of his sight. Szayelzaporro attempted to follow his movements, trying his best to get his muscles working, he produced nothing but a weak twitch, with a groan he gave up.

"Do hold still, will you?" The grating voice of the Shinigami carried over.

"…but…of course…" He answered, his sarcasm almost palpable in the air.

A distinct pricking made itself known somewhere around the area of his neck, warmth started spreading through him, his muscles twitching violently as he fought whatever the Clown had injected him with.

"…w-what…was…that?" He asked, voice strained as the serum worked its way through his system. A chuckle was his answer.

"Ohh, you see, I've always wished to see the effects of this particular serum on hollows."

A groan left Szayelzaporros lips, heat was flooding his body, every muscle was burning. The formerly cold tabletop felt hot and rough on his skin. Instead of numbness he now felt everything. Every brush of air and clothing on his skin, the restraints on his arms and feet, the needle hooked into his elbow, keeping him sedated enough to prevent him from escaping. A shudder worked its way through his body.

He could feel the pain. The pulling of the clamps holding back his skin. The burning of an open wound. His intestines screaming as they were displayed to the air. Heart fluttering, lungs faltering. Blood running hot and cold. He stared back at himself, split open. Blood running down the sides of the tabletop. Coating his skin. Dripping from the instruments hooked into and onto his body.

It was agony.

It was madness.

"How interesting!" The grating, mad voice, broke through his hazy thoughts.

Madness.

War paint.

Brilliance.

Perfection.

"…p-please…" He begged. He screamed and trashed. The restraints holding him in place as a cackle worked its way to his ears.

Surviving was not an option.

But that was not what he was begging for.

Release. His body, his mind, everything was on fire. All he could wish for was release. He was begging for death. A quick release from the agony he was feeling. His features twisting in pain as he tried holding back another blood churning scream.

He failed.

"Please?" The clown asked, amusement seeping into his voice. "Now you start begging? What is it that you beg for, Espada?"

"…please…stop…please…kill…mee…." His thoughts were reeling, his once brilliant mind failing him. Release, release, release. _Please._

"Killing you? No, no, no. The fun has only just begun, my dear Espada." Another laugh.

Surviving was not an option.

Surprisingly gentle hands reached out and touched his cheek, cupping them. He hadn't expected the kiss. A long, slimy tongue wormed its way into his cavern, searching and tasting every last bit. The squelching sound of their kiss was making him sick to his stomach. He knew fighting was futile. He had nowhere to run. He couldn't move, fixated to the table as he was.

The drugs were still in effect, turning every breath into agony. With a wet pop the clown pulled away. Grinning madly as his face swam from Szayelzaporrors vision.

The hand reappeared on his thighs this time. Stroking them almost gently. With his viewpoint forced upwards, he couldn't help but see what it was the clown was doing. Long spidery hands were gliding over his skin, gathering up blood and smearing it around. Hot wetness followed the trail of the fingers. Szayelzaporro staring with fascinated disgust as the clown lapped at his blood, drinking it straight from his skin. Another hand joined, long tongue and hot breath on his skin as it trailed upwards.

He thought, for a split second that he was going to touch his genitalia, but the clown forwent it and trailed his hand farther up – Surely not!

The scream that was ripped out of his throat stopped any further thought. White hot pain made his nerves scream back at him. Fight or flight. Sickness welled up from his stomach, bile gathering in the back of his throat at the intensity of it all.

His sight escaped him, white light encompassing his view at the pain. When it came back, his lashes fluttering and blinking through the agony, he was presented once again with the view in front of him. The hand had worked its way _inside_ of him. Resting comfortably in his intestines, not moving, not even twitching – not yet, at least.

A low chuckle reached his ears, sounding as though it was the aftermath of a cackle.

"Finally, my dear Espada! Your screams are truly – truly fantastic! Ahh, when was the last time I had this much fun?" The chuckle swelled again, breaking apart the sentence with its mirth. True joy was reflecting in his voice.

He had thought his disgust for the Shinigami couldn't grow. He had been wrong.

The hand was back, trailing his blood, gathering it, the tongue awaiting its taste. Finally, the clown pulled back. His other hand still sitting between his organs. Slowly the clown directed his gaze skywards.

Meeting Szayelzaporror's eyes in the mirror. He grinned. And _pulled._

Agony. Madness. White searing pain. Sickness threading on his tongue. All he could do was swallow back his own vomit, not wishing to puke right _into_ himself. The pain subsided. His sight returned. The blood around him had multiplied. Small giggles were escaping the mouth of the Clown, his face still directed towards his in the mirror, eyes closed in bliss. His blood had splattered the Captains haori even further, creating a waterfall of red on his front, the hand that had invaded him dripping blood to the floor as it hung at his side limply. His eyes opened. Sickly green gaze catching his. He reached up his hand and licked at the blood with his long tongue. Lapping it up like a dog. The hazy pain was a constant on his mind. His brilliant mind, failing him in the face of torture.

The blood coated hand reached out. His parted legs doing nothing to prevent it as it invaded him again. The pain in his rectum unnoticeable through the constant agony he was experiencing. His sight was the only thing letting him know in which new way the clown was defiling him, humiliating him.

Had he been human, he would have cried. He was glad he wasn't.

The finger pierced him over and over working him open with precision and little care, the blood that was still on his hand aiding him as lube. A second finger followed, scissoring him. He could feel it. Distantly. His body feeling too much pain as to register the sensitive touch. The fingers were withdrawn. He wasn't expecting the hiss that left him at the sudden action.

The mask was back. Staring at him. There was no smile. The clown reached out, reaching for something on the right side of his head. A small click reverberated through his ear. His view blocked by the clown's body he awaited more pain to set in. Gentle fingers were brushing over his hair. He opened his eyes. The clown was smiling at him mockingly, holding up the restrain that had held his head in place.

He vanished again from his immediate sight. Slowly Szayelzaporro lifted his head, moving it into the direction he could hear the clown working at. He looked down at himself. Seeing the instruments and clamps attacked to him, his own skin stretching out thinly to give the best view. He could see the small bump of his intestines, make out the edge of his liver. His instinct to scream had long since left him.

The clown was working on his legs. Removing his shackles. It still wouldn't help him escape.

Surviving was not an option.

He knew what was to come when he saw the clown shuffling closer, climbing on the table, spreading his legs farther apart. He closed his eyes instinctively.

"Espada!" The exclamation startled him into opening them once more.

The clown grinned down at him, kneeling between his legs. Sadistic glee on his face as he _pushed._ Szayelzaporro would have screamed had the breath not been knocked out of him through the sheer force of the invasion. A relentless pace was set, no mercy shown to a body that was already straining to stay together, to not split apart. His mind. He wished he could enter it and drift away, away into darkness, yet there was no mistaking the grunts and pants escaping the Shinigami on top of him.

"Scream, will you?" He cackled, aiming to invade him deeper, thrusting faster. Szayelzaporro clamped his mouth shut. He wouldn't give him the pleasure. He had already lost everything. His dignity being ripped from him in this very moment.

"Stubborn, ehh? Let's see how long that'll last." The thrust subsided as the clown spoke. He stilled. Sayelzapporo clamped his eyes shut, biting his lips to brace for whatever the clown was planning next.

Coldness grazed his cheek, followed by a sharp pain and wetness ascending his face.

"If you don't want me to cut them off, open your eyelids." A whispered threat, followed by another sharp nick to his collarbone.

He opened his eyes, the metallic glint of a scalpel gleaming in the clown's blood sullied hands. He grinned down at him. Madness.

His thrusts started back up again, slow at first but gaining in speed and force. The Espada gritted his teeth as his humiliation continued.

Pain. White hot agonizing pain speared through him once again. It spread from his higher abdomen all the way to his lungs and appendix, he could feel the blood streaming over his intestines. A scream was ripped from his throat, lip splitting with the force his teeth were ripped apart. The thrusting never subsided. The laughter swelled, distant at first but growing into a cackle.

His eyes were open. He stared in horror at the clown. Scalpel gleaming with fresh blood. He held a piece of flesh in his hands. Flesh most likely cut from his intestines. The scalpel clattered to the floor loudly. With a grin the clown leaned closer, further down, towards his face.

His hand came up agonizingly slow.

Szayelzaporro shook his head, horror clear in his eyes as he moved away from the hand in jerky motions.

"Open up, Espada." The clown whispered, almost gently. The sick pleasure in his eyes obvious as he leaned backwards for his hand to come up.

Szayelzaporro moved away, his head trashing from one side to the other. The first time he had fought back since all of this had started. Another hand came up, blue fingernails digging into his cheeks as his head was forced into stillness. The other hand came closer, pressing the piece of flesh against his mouth. Madness. The taste of copper and blood seeped through his closed lips. Wide eyes staring back into madness.

"Take a bite." Mayuri sung, voice brighter than before, madness lifting its ugly head.

Szayelzaporro shook his head, motion limited by the hand bruising his cheeks with its sheer force. The nails dug deeper threateningly before the hold on his face grew softer.

"…Do you want this to end? This is all I ask for you. Take a bite…and it will end." The Shinigami was back to whispering, caressing his face with the same hand that had bruised it.

Lie. Lie. Lie. Of course, it was a lie. But he wanted it to end. Wanted it to be over with so bad. Finger probed at his mouth, parting his lips, dug into his cheek forcefully before going back to gentle caresses. A sob escaped his mouth. A mistake. The clown was on him in a second, hand forcing the flesh into his mouth and clamping his hand over it, suffocating him.

"Swallow." Madness.

The thrusting started up again, hand digging into his cheeks, continuing to suffocate him. Long deep thrusts, that knocked away his already limited breath. He had no choice.

He swallowed.

The Shinigami laughed.

Madness.

Surviving was not an option.


End file.
